Seven Deadly Loves: Wrath
by QtoyourBond
Summary: A series based around the seven deadly sins with crack pairings. Wrath - Extreme anger often leading to violence. Clove always wanted to win everything, but at what cost? "Announcing, the District 2 tributes for the 74th Annual Hunger Games, Peeta Mellark and Clove Latro!" Clove/Peeta/Katniss
1. Anger

**A/N Hello! This is a fic I have been working on for a while. It is a crack pairing with Clove/Peeta so be warned but give it a chance! Happy readings!**

Clove wakes up excited. On a morning where other children tremble with fear and try to recover from lack of sleep, she wakes up rested, warm, and happy. She stretches her legs, arching her back, and enjoys the feeling of his hairy legs rubbing against her smooth ones. The bed that creaks underneath her is thin and uncomfortable. It doesn't help that its small and she shares it with him. Her back cracks as she finishes stretching.

He moans and shifts away from her movements but doesn't wake. His blonde hair catches the sunlight in ways she wishes she didn't notice, looking almost golden. She's surprised at herself when she leans in to wake him with a kiss instead of the usual kick to the shins and "get the fuck out." Well, today is a special occasion. She smiles into his lips.

It hurts her ass when she hits the wooden floor and the breath is knocked out of her for a second of surprise. It shouldn't have surprised her, though. His aggressive shove pushed her off the bed but she managed to bring the thin, scratchy sheet she was tangled in with her. He wakes up as the cool morning air touches his bare skin and he rubs open his bright blue eyes. She tries to glare to show anger at the push but can only smile as Peeta sleepily sits up. Kisses were never their thing, and this morning definitely isn't his. But this is their game. Violence, love, hate, and sex on a constant repeat and she loves every moment of it.

He rolls his eyes at her weak attempt at a glare. He hates every moment of this. She loves that, too. She reaches up onto the bed and cruelly pulls a chunk of his blonde leg hair. He smacks her hand away, as he lets out a yelp. It's almost playful but still hard enough to make her skin turn red where his hand hit. She laughs and no one could call it a giggle. _Only weak little girl's giggle and I am not one of them. _

Their trainers will be around any minute for wakeup call and they normally rushes him out of her tiny single bedroom to avoid the possible punishment but it doesn't matter today. Today, she is eighteen and will receive the honor of being next female District 2 tribute. No one would deny her this little tryst_. Because you might die_. A little voice whispers and she looks at him instead of listening.

Peeta Mellark is only sixteen. Two years younger than her and far less trained, though still much bigger than her. He probably won't ever be chosen to go into the arena. He would never win the actual Games since he can't even win the District 2 competition to get him there. Everyone has to "audition" every year, brutally fight in hand to hand combat with the other female or male potential tributes, and this year Clove won and Peeta lost in the first round to a seventeen year old smaller than he was. Though she knows he didn't even try.

Someone like him really shouldn't be in the training center. Someone nice, someone with a family that's still alive and even comes to check on him. But it was either this or becoming a peacekeeper and he had hated the idea of both. At least this way, he might only have the possibility of a terrible life. Joining the ranks of peacekeepers guaranteed it. He would be just as mismatched there, too. All the peacekeepers she's ever met have been just as bad or worse than her trainers.

He was a rare case for the center. Merchants tend to limit themselves for children and he was screwed over by being the youngest son of the baker. There was only one bakery and three different kids who would have three different families. The bakery couldn't support three families. It could barely support three kids. The training center had been the only choice left to him.

Most younger siblings, orphans, and unwanted children end up here. Some parents make extra kids, just for the hopes that one of them may gain riches in the arena. That's probably what Peeta was, though his father always denied it, his mother believed in the glory of the Games. Clove was an extra. She planned on winning the Games and not sharing a dime with her family who had never visited except on the days of competition.

Auditions started when you were twelve. Girls and boys would separate and everyone's names would be pulled for their matches. Clove's first year she had gotten a thirteen year old and smiled at her parents in the bleachers with her bloody nose and missing tooth when she won the match. They never smiled back. The next was a seventeen year old girl who beat her unconscious. When she woke her parents were gone.

It went like that every year until Clove never looked at the audience. They were just people who called themselves her parents and she was just an investment. This year when she won, the tall man who called himself her father and the short, thin woman, "her mother," came to congratulate her. She broke his wrist when he patted her on the back and managed to break three of his ribs and her nose before someone pulled her off them. They still seemed proud. Because they created a monster and monsters win the Games.

_Either way, they won't get a dime from me when I win_. She was winning for herself. The glory of District 2, and her parents and her trainers didn't mean shit to her. She wanted the money and the house and Peeta and freedom and _blood_. She shivers with excitement.

He leans down and scoops her easily back into bed. Despite being not typical of District 2, he still had the strength that came from years of training. "You hurt my ass," Clove wiggles in his grip and he laughs and flips her over to blow a strawberry on her no longer pained rear. The feeling tickles and it's almost a giggle that escapes her lips. She flips over and wraps her legs around him, pinning him down. She is very strong and trained, but still much smaller than him. He lets her stay in control; she likes being in control.

Peeta was different than everyone she ever met. He was always far nicer than anyone else in the training center, maybe even in District 2. If she had ever really been allowed out, maybe she would know. He is never cruel, only violent, and everyone here is violent. It's how they live and survive. District 2 is for the strong and brutal and Victors. But he would never hurt her, not really.

She is everything that District 2 should be and he is none of it, even his name doesn't fit. That's why she noticed him in the first place. In a place of weapons and fighting, you notice the little boy picking dandelions and helping you up. Everyone calls him soft but she knows he is not. He is just different.

They get caught up in their play wrestle until it becomes something else. They repeat their activities from the night before, and the night before that, and the night before that. After, she kicks him out to get ready this time with a solid kick to the butt for payback. He laughs his way out the door, while slipping on his pants, and quickly closes it before she can get in another kick.

She walks around her small room to get ready. It's a single room, another thing she managed to earn by winning fights. Peeta still lived in a shared room with three other boys, the same size but with bunked beds. She hated sharing a room and fought every year for a single room until she won one at 15, one of the youngest to do so.

Her blanket piled on the floor was the only color, a dark green splash pooled against the wooden floor. The walls are grey and bare, with chips in the paint and cracks in the wall. Other than her bed the only furniture was a nightstand with a well melted candle and a small three drawer dresser with a dirty mirror hanging above it.

She walked to the dresser and pulled open the first drawer, a drawer for undergarments, socks, and pajamas. Everything was perfectly folded and all the same dull grey, blacks, or white. Some of the greys might have initially been black or white, but faded over time. The underwear might be the only thing that isn't a hand down in the drawer. _At least, I hope so_. She slips into a pair, anyways. The second drawer contains day clothes. Most of them are flexible training clothes but there is also a set for "dress wear," jeans and fairly nice button down shirt that almost fits her properly, for when a Victor or Capital crony or cameras visit. The last drawer is left for personal belongings. Clove's remains completely empty.

She opens the second drawer before remembering that she won't be wearing the usual clothes today. She turns back toward the door to see a dress hanging there by a hook. It's completely white and clean cut and innocent looking. Not really her style, but they chose what would fit and her smaller stature is rare in the Training Center. The dress has probably been worn by many girls who are now dead. She rubs the cotton between her fingers before excitedly pulling it off the hanger.

She pulls it quickly over her head and pauses when she thinks she hears a tear. She frantically looks around but finds nothing amiss and finishes shifting it to her body. The shoulder sleeves allow her tan and muscled arms to show nicely and the hem above her knees does the same for her legs. The dress is lower cut than she is used to and she rearranges it a few times around her small breast before settling. She looks strong, if not beautiful.

This will be the first time the Capital sees her and she wants to look good. Sponsors are important even to the deadliest tributes. Clove finishes at the mirror, taking all of her long black hair and putting every strand in place into a tight high ponytail, and pinching her cheeks and licking her lips like she saw some other girl's doing. She slips on the matching white flip flops they gave her then leaves her room for the last time. The sound of the door shutting makes her smile.

She stops by the bathroom to brush her teeth and revels in the fact that all the girls quiet as she walks into the room. She runs up the stairs quickly and knocks on his door. The boys behind it laugh boisterously and insult someone's mother before answering. One of Peeta's roommates that she never bothered to learn the name of opens the door and leans his almost naked body against the frame. He wiggles his eyebrows and she immediately crosses her arms and glares. That seems to remind him who he is messing with and he backs up and waves behind Clove. Peeta walks towards her in a towel from the bathroom.

"Give me a minute," he smiles at her and then proceeds to shove his half naked roommate backwards into their room while the kid shouts. Peeta slams the door shut behind him with a kick. Clove laughs and leans against the wall to wait, listening to the boys yell at each other while they dress. The boy's hall is always filled with shouts while the girl's just whisper. Both always seem to end in violence. She thinks that Peeta and his roommates, another set of softer boys who probably won't survive training without help, actually get along though so she doesn't listen very closely.

Boys walk back and forth from their rooms to the bathroom in different levels of undress but no one spares her a glance and she doesn't look at them either. Her hand twitches to a weapon that isn't there whenever someone walks too closely. A few of the younger ones still sport bruises or limps from training. Before they are allowed in the Games, they don't get the same top notch medical treatment that everyone gets once they are of age. The Capital doesn't support training, not directly, but the Center never lacks for food, weapons, or medicine. They love a show and District 2 is often a top player. Someone always finds a way to send them what they need.

Cato walks out of his room, fully dressed in a nice suit, one chosen to fit him as the designated District 2 tribute. _It won't save you_. He laughs and points at her before using his hand in a mime of a dirty motion. Clove ignores him as he walks away. She smiles as she thinks of how she will bleed him to death soon.

Peeta walks out a couple minutes later tightening a belt around his waist. His light blue button down shirt is too small for him but it brings out the blue in his eyes and stretches nicely across his muscles. His khaki pants sag a little around his waist even with the belt, but they are a decent length and end at his worn down dress shoes. She regrets that she won't get the chance to rip the clothes off of him later. She reaches up and bites his lip sharply. He winces away while his lip opens up a small cut. The metallic taste of blood flickers across her tongue as she kisses him again. She laughs and licks her own lips, wanting more of him.

Instead, of falling into her arms he turns her around and pushes her lightly ahead. The hallways are slowly emptying as everyone heads downstairs. She can vaguely hear the shouts of Victors and trainers commanding everyone to hurry up and get ready. She walks outside without stopping in the small dining hall. She is too excited to eat and Peeta follows a few steps behind her without a word or glance towards the food he will be missing.

He walks behind her, as if they were not walking together. They are always like that, together but separated by something she can never see. They sit at dinner and barely talk, they train in the gym by fighting each other, and don't stop until one is unconscious or the trainers physically separate them. She fights him just like anyone else, without mercy and with a ferocious singular attention that causes the younger trainees to tap out from fear alone. He fights without ever giving up, unless they are younger or weaker. His record is one of the lowest in wins, but the wins are against the top competitors while the losses are all against what Clove always considered punching bags. They share a bed but stay far apart from each other, only touching when the cold gets to be too much and they would die without it. Blankets are a reward for good behavior and Clove never listened for the enjoyment of it and he never listened because he hated everything they said.

The walk to the City Center isn't far. As soon as she walks out, she feels the warmth of the sun slowly chase off the cooler morning air. The mountains around them block out half of the sunlight but it's warm and comforting on this side of the valley and cooler where the miners work all day, though the mines are silent today.

The normal clangor has disappeared and given itself over to a silence that even children don't break. Most fear the silence, but Clove enjoys it. The mines always annoyed her. The miners were always dirty and often smelly. Their children often beg for food and Clove would ignore them completely except to make sure to never touch them.

The recent rains created puddles on the dirt road that led to the main square and she carefully avoids them to keep her shoes and dress clean. When she looks behind her at Peeta, she sees him walk straight through a puddle as he stares at the sun rising over the mountain. She turns back forward and happily skips over another puddle in her way. She even does a twirl that sends her dress up her legs and worried parents glare in her direction. _Your children have nothing to fear, idiots. _

They reach the sign in and stand in their separate lines. She smiles at the Peacekeepers as she signs in. Clove looks back up to where Peeta was and sees him already heading into the boy's section. She realizes she was expecting a goodbye, or a good luck, or maybe even him begging her not to go. She would have denied him, of course, but she still expected the fight. But he hadn't said anything at all. The moment causes her smile to drop. _He still has time during my visitor's hour_. The thought calms her and the smile lights back up on her face.

She practically skips to the front area for the eighteen year olds. Everyone moves out of her way and anyone who doesn't willingly gets shoved until she is right under the stage. The girls all form a circle of space around her. Even as the space grows more and more crowded, they still make sure to not touch her. The children outside of the center always fear those that go through training and she had well established herself as someone to fear within the girls of the center. No one touches her.

No one would touch him either. He would probably like to think it was because of his proven fighting skills, but really it's because anyone who touches him must deal with her. She already well-established that and even the trainers, who have been known to beat children to death, go easy on Peeta Mellark. She tries to be subtle and there is only one incident he knows of for sure. No one dared to hurt him after that, not with her there.

As the fat, old Mayor recites the Treaty of Treason and a long list of past District 2 Victors, Clove dances in place. He announces that Brutus and Enobaria will be mentoring this year and Clove winces a little. She never liked Brutus since he was often the one to give out the punishments. She and Peeta had both been whipped by him before she had made everyone afraid.

They still had the scars though. She had been old enough to get treatment so hers were thin lines while his were jagged wide marks across his entire back. She hadn't had any experience with Enobaria. She never dealt with students, only tributes when it was her turn to mentor. Clove had been raised to do this anyways. The mentors were only people to collect her money.

The escort walks across the stage after being introduced. He is new here, transferred from District 7 or some similarly awful place. His suit is gold and shimmering and he wears a strange hat that appears to move. He stutters for a moment before introducing himself and declaring his excitement for being here. They are always excited to be here, though none of them ever last long. He finally comes to a stop and Clove finds herself on her tip toes to watch him walk across the stage to the bowl with the girls' names on it.

The name he calls means nothing to her and was as much white noise as his speech and the mayor before it. All she can feel is the blood rushing into her head from her rapid heartbeat as she quickly walks up the steps to the stage. The girl who was reaped hadn't even bothered to move from her spot in the fourteen year old section.

She comes up next to the escort, whose smile seems overly white to her. "Ah, we have a volunteer! What is your name, brave girl?" he shouts and the hat on his head moves again. She realizes its not a hat. His hair has been wrapped into a birds cage, that an actual live bird now resides in. Clove forgets her name for a second while she stares at the bird stuck in a trap of hair products and metal.

"Clove. Clove Latro," she gets out and curses herself. Being nervous in front of the cameras is a huge mistake. _God dammit, Clove. It's just a bird. Who the fuck puts a bird in their hair?_

The audience claps and its enough to bring herself together. She smiles and winks at the nearest camera putting a hand on her hip that shows off the muscles in her arm and the curve of her body. She will not be remembered for losing control because of a bird. The escort heads over to the boy's tribute bowl and Clove crosses her arms over her chest and glares. Flirty and confident are good minimal traits. Aggressive is what everyone really wants to see.

He calls out the name and Clove controls her surprised reaction enough that no emotion crosses over her face. Cato was reaped instead of having to volunteer. It happens sometimes. All the training children take out tesserae for the entire household. The eighteen year olds have hundreds of slips in the bowl but its still surprising when it happens. The escort looks a little too happy about the name, leading Clove to conclude that he knew whom the volunteers would be already.

Cato walks proudly to the stage, his large, muscular body catching everyone's eyes. The escort waits for him and doesn't even bother to ask for volunteers before reaching out and shaking his hand.

"I volunteer!" The voice from the eighteen year old section cuts across the crowd and stage. Funny, someone is being funny. Cato actually laughs, as does Clove, until she sees who it is. She knows he is not joking. Peeta had managed to make his way to the eighteen year old section and was now walking up the steps of the stage. Cato and the escort both stare open mouthed at the younger boy. Clove realizes she is too and snaps her mouth shut so quickly she bites her tongue. The blood doesn't taste as sweet this time.

"You can't volunteer," Cato snaps and stands over Peeta. He has a few good inches and at least 40 pounds, but Peeta had always been faster. Clove knew they were well matched even if both of them would deny it for completely different reasons.

"Oh? But can't I? You were reaped, I volunteer. Those are the rules, right?" Peeta motions towards the escort. He nods looking slightly frightened. Cato and Peeta both tower over the smaller man. The Peacekeepers have approached the pair and Cato notices them while his fingers curl into a fist. He keeps his arm by his side.

"I'm going to kill you, Mellark," he snarls.

"Get in line behind the other twenty –three people then, Cato," Clove can practically hear the Capital audience laughing, there are even a few chuckles in this crowd. Peeta turns to the escort, "Hello, I'm Peeta Mellark. Cool bird thing," his smile is wonderful and charming and it fills her with rage.

The escort seems just as surprised by his smile as he was by his volunteering. He pats at his bird cage hair, "Uh, why, thank you. I am excited to announce the District 2 tributes for the 74th Annual Hunger Games, Peeta Mellark and Clove Latro!" He moves out of the way so that Clove and Peeta can shake hands. She thinks about squeezing his hand painfully but somehow the strength doesn't come to her and it's a weak handshake that she quickly lets drop.

She feels choked up. Emotions fly through her and she isn't sure which one to grab onto and follow. So instead, rage, sadness, and even happiness fly through her without getting a proper foot hold and each equally overwhelm her. The peacekeepers show her the way nervously as she laughs and clenches her fist and a tear trickles down her face. _Why would he do that?_

Maybe he has decided that death in the arena saving his only companion might be a better alternative to his other life choices. The torturous work in the mines, the horrible life of a peacekeeper forced to make all people follow the Capitol rules and maybe shipped off to some hell hole like District 12, or being the sole companion and useless boy toy of Clove for the rest of his life. He hates the mines, peacekeepers, and being useless, and most of the time, he only kind of likes her.

_Was this his suicide? Is he dying for me? Or does he mean to kill me? Would he do that after everything I have done for him? _

_**A/N Longer explanation down here. This was originally meant to be a one shot but completely got away from me and when it got to almost 20K words I just had to split it up. It will hopefully be Part 1 in a series that goes into other pairings in other AU worlds each with a different sin. I have not picked all the pairings so feel free to shout some out that you would be interested in seeing! **_

_**I have most of the first half done already so updates will come pretty orderly. For those of you reading Fire, don't worry I haven't forgotten. I really have been putting this on the backburner and just wanted to finally begin posting it. **_


	2. Storm

They are taken separately to City Hall where many other districts get to say goodbye to their families and friends. Most of the Careers have neither. Clove doesn't even bother to go into the room. She stands next to the Peacekeeper in the lobby who doesn't react as she paces. Teary goodbyes are the oddity here. She fits in with the many who came and died and won before her.

Peeta does go into the room though, and surprisingly his baker father visits him. The man always looked friendly. He had Peeta's kind smile, but gave it more freely than Peeta ever has. His mother and brothers are noticeably absent. He walks into the room and stays for several minutes, until a peacekeeper opens the door and escorts him back into the lobby. She tries to get a glimpse at Peeta but only sees an empty chair before the door closes behind them.

The baker smiles kindly at her and to her surprise walks over. He hands her a paper bag and when she reaches to grab it, he cups his hands over hers. She wonders if he can feel her shake under his touch. The kind gesture causes all of muscles to tense and her fingers twitch under his for her knife. He walks off without a word. Clove backs away from where he touched her and falls backwards into one of the lobby chairs.

She smells the delicious aroma of cookies wafting from the bag. She has never had a cookie. Sweets are not allowed in her training diet and they aren't given any cash to buy anything they don't give out themselves. She shoves her face into the bag and breathes in deeply. The smell reminds her of Peeta even though he hasn't been able to bake for years.

Peeta walks out of the room with teary eyes but he doesn't let them fall. She feels what might be love fill her cold heart because she doesn't know anyone like him. Then she remembers why he is there and anger fills her instead. It's more comfortable to her this way anyways. She storms up to him before anyone else can stop her and shoves him hard. He crashes into a table with a large, decorative vase and it breaks apart as it crashes to the ground.

He shouts with surprise, "What the fuck, Clove?" The curses that come out of her mouth could make a sailor blush.

The Peacekeepers pull her off of him while she had grabbed a chunk of his hair. Enough of it came with her for him to shout again in pain. The peacekeepers carry her to the train, one on each arm, holding under her shoulder, and one trying to control her kicking legs. The cameras around her go insane and the flashes temporarily blind her. She doesn't see Peeta who follows behind her subtly rubbing his head and smiling and waving at the cameras.

They toss her in the train compartment and she thinks she hears them lock her in but she never tries to open it. Instead, she screams into her pillow and pulls it apart. She angrily spits away a feather that stuck itself to her lip. She has been training for this her entire life. She is very prepared to fight to the death but she is not ready for him to be doing it by her side. She goes into the shower in her bathroom and calms under scalding hot water that turns her skin bright red.

When she tries the door after, its unlocked and she heads to the train compartment she was pulled through that had a television. Clove grabs a few bites to eat as she passes through the dining car but she is already running late so she doesn't pause long. Even if the large table of food seems far more appealing than seeing Peeta's traitorous face.

They all came out for the recap of the Reapings. This is something they could not prepare for, the tributes they will have to fight and kill to win. Clove knows that too well now. Peeta sports a bruise along his jaw line, a present from their male mentor, Brutus, who is furious that his star pupil, Cato, will no longer have a chance to shine in the games and will now go to the peacekeepers or mines without honor or money. As Clove walks in, Peeta sits on the couch, nursing the bruise with ice wrapped in a cloth, but Brutus smacks it away. Ice spills out across the floor.

"Let it swell, it will show you are a fighter," his tone implies that Peeta is anything but. Peeta lets the cloth fall without argument and Clove makes sure to keep her face completely passive. He should have hit him harder. She clenches her fist and refuses to look at him again, afraid looking at him will cause her anger to bubble over and hit him again. She sits cross-legged on the floor in front of him.

It doesn't take long for the anger to fade, though. He always had that effect on her. Calming, even if he was the one to cause her initial rage. She quickly decides to not be angry with him anymore when he is completely unfazed by the beautiful District 1 tribute. Her hair shimmers gold and her long legs cause her to tower over her escort. He makes a comment about beauty over substance and ability and Clove lets herself lean against his leg in a sign of forgiveness.

_He is dying for me after all. Right? That has to be the reason. He had planned to volunteer with me anyways. He was standing in the eighteen year old section to get closer to the stage. This is his way of paying me back._

The male volunteer for District 1 comes next, "He could put up a fight. He looks confident," Peeta points out to the train car that seems to completely ignore him.

Clove smirks. She might still be a little cranky, but replies, "Too confident. Everyone knows District 1 training is a joke compared to ours." Enobaria replies with a smile and it's metal and sharp and glittering. Clove wonders what it would be like to kiss her and figures that no one ever dared to try.

She smiles when she sees herself on screen. Her stumble wasn't as bad as she thought and she looked strong and managed to keep her face mostly straight, even as Peeta came to the stage. He looked good as well. The clothes that strained across his muscles easily showed his strength and his charming smile and little quip seemed to win the announcers over immediately. They also showed her being carried to the train. Caesar laughs as she managed to kick a peacekeeper in the head, knocking him down.

"A fighter that one," he comments through the screen and causing Clove to smile.

District 3 seems small and unworthy but Peeta still comments, "Don't discount intelligence, Clove. District 3 often wins by outsmarting the competition." Every time Peeta speaks Brutus looks more and more annoyed. District 2 does not worry about intelligence. They were trained in that, too but it was never as important. There was never an intelligence part of the auditions. Two won with force.

Brutus and Enobaria leave after District 4. The other Careers will be the greatest asset and most likely become the biggest competition. Four showed good looking fighters but Clove always found it soft. Though she was always secretely jealous they got to see the ocean when all she had were worn down photos in textbooks.

Peeta points out a girl that he describes as fox-like. Clove had never seen a fox but the girl's eyes did look sharp and clever. But she was too skinny and from a non-Career district so Clove discounted her. "You can't tell intelligence from someone's appearance, Peeta."

He scowls at her, "No, but you can see fear and emotions. She isn't afraid and definitely looks more confident than most of the other district offerings." He has a point but she would never admit it. She focuses back onto the screen instead of responding.

The other districts hold little interest to her until District 11. The boy, no, not a boy, a full grown man, makes her shiver and she doesn't know why. He towers over his District mate, who was the same age, but so much smaller and weaker. Peeta doesn't say anything because nothing needs to be said. So far, this boy is the biggest competition they have.

She begins to stand after District 11, no one has come from 12 in almost twenty five years and she doesn't even feel the need to bother. Peeta remains seated though and she wanted to talk to him, so she sits back down and watches the same shit show again in the hole they call District 12.

Peeta swallows hard and Clove plays absently with her fingernails as a little blonde girl is chosen and begins to walk towards the stage from the twelve year old section. Everything looks black and dirty there, the girl almost seems like the only pure patch of color in the whole district. The girl looks around terrified and Clove knows the girl will die quickly. She is too young and too soft.

She is working furiously at a hangnail when the girl volunteers. That brings her attention back to the screen. The girl is dark like the rest of the District but her eyes are panicked and a brighter gray than they have any right to be. Her dark hair was in a braid down her back, matching the side braids on the younger girl, and her dress didn't completely fit.

"What an idiot, volunteering with no chance of winning," Clove sneers. District 12 never wins. They are all sad and pathetic and weak compared to District 2. Their only victor is now a dirty old drunk who falls over during the reaping. What most would see as passion, Clove saw as fear and panic. Peeta saw what was really there, fear but not for herself.

"It isn't idiotic to love someone enough to die for them, Clove," Peeta snaps back. She looks back towards the screen and sees the blonde girl crying as she is pulled away from the stage. As the older girl, walked up the stairs to the front her face becomes empty. The fear is gone.

Clove wonders for a moment if he is projecting. He volunteered for her, for debt, for love, for a death wish. Peeta doesn't stop looking at the screen and she doesn't stop looking at him. He is mesmerized by the dark haired girl filled with so much love and loyalty. Clove wonders if she would have volunteered with Peeta. Part of her screams yes, she wouldn't let him go in alone, but another part says that she still would have tried to win, even against him.

The girl introduces herself as Katniss Everdeen. The smaller girl had been her sister. The reaping for the boys is not as suspenseful. Her district mate is small and young and makes no impression other than he is twelve years old and the youngest tribute in the Games. The camera focuses on the girl, who has gained a look of calm detachment.

Clove sees what she couldn't before when emotions flooded the girl. She is a fighter and strong. There are muscles underneath the unfitted dress and she is not nearly as skinny as the other people of the Districts. Her death won't come easy in the arena like so many other tributes, especially those from 12.

He stands up as Caesar signs off and the television switches to some past game to compare to the new tributes. She feels defenseless as he stands over her so she is quick to jump up and stand by his side.

"Why did you volunteer?" she asks him, pretending not to be worried about his answer.

He smiles, but its empty and doesn't reach his eyes, "I owe you my life Clove. This is all you have ever wanted. I figured I would help you get it." He reaches up and lightly tugs at her hair, she wonders if he wishes it were braided. He lets his hand drops and walks out of the room. She doesn't bother following him. Clove wasn't sure what answer she wanted but it felt empty and hollow hearing that it was a debt to be paid. She didn't bloody her hands for him to bloody his own later.

The walk back to her room feels long and is completely silent. She passes an Avox and almost wishes he would say something; anything that she could be angry at. Anger was the only emotion she could understand. But their words would only be choking and they wouldn't scream if she strangled them so she remains confused instead and tosses and turns in her sleep.

They arrive in the Capitol in the morning. Their trip is much shorter than the other districts. They actually have a day off in the Capitol although it is limited. They can have no extra training. Not that they would need any. Their apartment is decorated in grey slate stones and harsh lines. Weapons hang crisscrossed on the wall. A black leather couch looks highly uncomfortable and the television is mounted above an unnecessarily lit fireplace.

Her own room has perfectly white walls with the biggest bed she has ever seen with an engraved granite headboard. The mirror above the dresser isn't smudged like her own, and every single drawer is filled with clothes that probably fit better than anything she has ever owned. She finds her way to the shower and presses every button she can find until she smells of lavenders and lemons and things she has never heard of. Her hair turns soft and she rubs her fingers through it, wondering which button caused it.

Peeta disappeared when they go to check out their rooms. When she enters his room, still in the soft grey robe left in her bathroom, it's a twin to hers except his clothes lay in a pile on the floor. The bathroom is just as empty and she walks back to her own room to dress. She kills time by gorging on food with the excuse of putting on weight and mourns the loss of Peeta's fathers cookies while she fought with the peacekeepers. Peeta knocks on her door and pretends not to notice the candy and cookie wrappers and even a cake with a bite taken out of it.

She crawls into bed and he follows, moving his hands up and down her body and into her newly soft hair. An Avox showed him the roof and he describes how beautiful the view and the garden are while they fuck. His words are like poetry that she doesn't understand but can still recognize the beauty, like how she pictures the ocean without ever having felt it. They are what draw her in, in a way that no one else ever could. He is the boy picking dandelions and she is the girl covered in blood and she didn't want anything else.

She begins to drift off to sleep and can feel him delicately braid her hair. The dark hair bends easily into shape and falls across his pale chest. _That is the only way I will ever be like her, a braid in my hair. _A braid doesn't lead to sacrifice or love or passion; Clove is only left anger and lust and a confusing sense of what she should be.

The next day is the Opening Ceremonies. Both had been prepared for years to go into the Games and fight to the death. Neither was well prepared for the torture the prep teams puts them through. Clove snaps angrily at all of them. A woman with purple skin and whiskers rips out her leg hair and Clove smacks her across the face. The purple woman holds her cheek wounded, but Clove hears them whisper that she will be a Victor.

They pluck at her eyebrows and rub down her skin and pull at her hair though they have to strap her down eventually. When they leave, her stylist and prep team believe they have a Victor, while Peeta's feel like they made a friend. At least, that's what it looks like from the way they flutter around giving him finishing touches and advice. He gives them all smiles and kind words and they melt in his manipulative hands. Clove laughs and wonders if they know they are being played. A kind smile is the best disguise for a knife, he always said.

Clove looks at him and smiles. Their outfits make them into golden gladiators with their skin made wet to look like sweat mixed with blood and dirt. She grabs at his muscles accentuated by the outfit. He gives her a small smile and wipes some fake sweat off in her hair. The other districts outfits always represent their exports and District 2 exports warriors and glory above masonry.

They add a giant helmet and Peeta's head bends a little under the weight. Clove laughs until the same thing happens to her. She walks towards the chariots, completely unbalanced by the strange weight on her head. When he rips off his helmet and throws it across the pavilion, she doesn't hesitate to follow his lead. They climb into the chariot to the sound of shouts and each other's laughter.

Their horses are gray, and she only has a moment to think of how much she doesn't like the color before the music blares and they begin to move. The crowd screams and she catches a rose thrown at her almost immediately. She waves back happily and flexes her muscles a few times for the crowd. Peeta looks behind them and she pretends not to notice.

The sound dies out when District 12 enters the City Circle. The silence reflects the shock, confusion and awe that the tributes bring. They wave and smile with the flames and everyone realizes at almost the same time that they are not burning and that they look magnificent. Peeta stares at the girl who before could possibly pass as pretty, is now absolutely stunning.

Clove is taken aback at first, but quickly recovers to let rage fill her. Katniss Everdeen has stolen so much of Clove's attention already. This will make it two events that the Capital won't shut up about. She scowls and stares daggers at the completely unnoticing girl before deciding not to give her any more attention.

No one notices the District 2 tributes anymore. Peeta stares at Katniss Everdeen and Clove stares anywhere but there, including at his awed face that she really of wants to punch. The flames draw everyone eyes and the cameras far more than their share so she avoids looking at the screens, too. The President's speech is out shown by the tributes and Clove and probably, President Snow are equally angry about being put out.

She isn't a jealous person. _Not jealous, just short-tempered, and I know what is mine. Peeta and this competition are mine. _ She paints a target on the Girl on Fire but believes in her bloodthirsty heart that Peeta will be hers until one or both of them die. He wouldn't bother arguing that. He knows it's true as well as she does. They would never have a happy ending but it would be them together till the tragic end.

**A/N Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed last chapter! I already exceeded my expectations and I am so happy! Sorry this one took a while, I had a monster long chapter in Fire. **

**Thank you to both of the Guest. Guest 1 will be happy to see that this is a multi-chapter fic going all the way through the Games and thank you Guest 2 for trying it! I don't ship Clove/Peeta and neither does my beta but we both really enjoy working on this story so I hope you enjoy reading it! **


	3. Ire

Clove has fun during training, doing everything she loves and watching others fail at it. Peeta and Clove both show off, playing with swords and spears, neither of their strong points but still better than most everyone else. He decapitates a dummy and kicks it like a soccer ball towards her while laughing. The sight scares some the other tributes to shake even if he is just messing around.

Their mentors told them hide their best strengths because even Careers could use the element of surprise at some point. So she practiced her weaker points and watched as the other Careers showed off. District 4 was strong this year both capable of lifting heavy weights and good with a sword. The District 1 boy seemed to immediately show his strength and went for the spears where he hit the targets every time with a resounding thump. The District 1 girl's hair and hips seemed to sway wherever she went and even while she was fighting.

The girl named Glimmer smirks as Clove takes a misstep and is smacked across the butt by the trainer for swords. He seems to realize his mistake of fucking with her and immediately backs away, but the girl with shimmery hair remains smiling at Clove. _If no one was watching you would both be dead already_. She heads to the throwing knife section and smiles as the smirk leaves Glimmers face as each knife goes right into the hearts of the dummies. She even does a few trick throws, including a roll and jumping off of a wall and throwing it in mid-air.

Peeta watches her, amused; he didn't want to hide anything anyways. He argued that there was no point since everyone knows they are trained with almost every weapon. He heads for the bows as soon as she puts down the knives. His aim is flawless, as always. The trainer starts shooting up targets and each falls down with an arrow perfectly through it.

He loses himself in it. Bows had always been his weapon, they required less confrontation and he always considered it more of a skill than the brute force that so often won in hand to hand and sword fighting. He called it an art and she called it a long-range killing weapon.

He doesn't notice that his actions create shadows around him. Clove watches from the corner of her eye. She has seen him do this many times before but still enjoys watching him. His other shadow is surprisingly the Girl on Fire. Clove watched her carefully; she had put on a show before but it would be pointless if she couldn't fight. Katniss had look almost offended when he initially picked up the bow, but now stares with a confusing looked of wonder and dislike. The other shadow is an extension of her. The small boy from her district follows her every move, which right now means watching Peeta with his bow.

At lunch, she knows that the Careers are supposed to sit together, even if she doesn't like it. She sits at the large table with her food and is joined by Districts 1 and 4 rather quickly. The cocky boy smirks at her and shakes her hand, "I'm Marvel," he says and Clove resists rolling her eyes at the fact that his name manages to be dumber than Glimmer. The boy and girl of Four are quiet and whisper their names like secrets, Catalina and Gendry.

Peeta moves more slowly through the buffet lines. Clove watches as he picks up every piece of bread and places it on his tray. He stays longer at the last plate, staring at the small hard bread. This one he picks up in his hand and holds in front of his face. It looks unappetizing to Clove, the other breads have different flavors or interesting shapes that this bread lacks and she skipped over it without a second glance.

She arches her eyebrow in an unspoken question. _What the hell are you doing Peeta? Stop being weird. _He gives her a small smile and heads back to the table with his tray, which is just filled with bread. He doesn't explain but takes a bite from each one silently. Listening to the introductions and only speaking to say his name.

The others stare at him strangely and for a moment she worries that he could be jeopardizing the alliance. Even if she wouldn't mind, she doesn't want to risk more enemies early on. She shakes away the thought quickly though; this group of Careers is too weak to lose their best fighters. The fact that Peeta makes it on the list of best fighters proves that.

They whisper strategies and openly and loudly call out the weaknesses of other tributes. Many are too small or weak, some made critical mistake early on, and some were simply ugly. Clove hates the Careers as much as the other competitors, but she puts on a good show. She laughs at their jokes and doesn't threaten to murder them. Peeta doesn't really try.

By the end of the meal, they act like old friends, except him. They walk off as a group bonding over future death and destruction, all of them sure that the last heart beating will be theirs. Peeta lags behind them and when she turns to look, she sees him place the last bread on the table right in front of Katniss. Clove looks back towards the bread trays. Twelve trays. She glances at the second and sees the familiar hard rolls of her home. So that bread is from Katniss's home, District 12. And Peeta figured that out and handed it to her.

She doesn't know why he did it. _And you're too afraid to ask_. But she convinces herself that she doesn't care instead. Peeta and Clove separate to train. Glimmer ends up with Peeta, twirling her hair and asking how to shoot a bow and Marvel follows Clove back to the knives. They don't speak even when they head upstairs together and share a bed. Talking was never their thing and she didn't know what she was supposed to say.

The next day at lunch the Girl on Fire heads to the bread tray. She stares for a few moments and then picks up our district bread and brings it back to her table where she unceremoniously tears it into pieces and then throws it in the trash without taking a bite.

Clove smiles to herself. If that wasn't a huge fuck you Peeta, I don't know what is. She respected the girl's attitude. That didn't mean she wouldn't cut up the girl's pretty face and find a sick enjoyment in it, though. Her smile is cut short when Peeta chuckles beside her. He liked attitude, too. The girl smiles at him and it's a smile of daring and hate. But something else slips in too, but it goes by too fast for Clove to tell what it is. She was never good with understanding anything else anyways.

They are together that night and she doesn't let him stop until they are both dripping with sweat and so tired that their muscles don't seem to work properly. She holds on tightly to the only form of possession and love she knows, but lets go of him as she drifts asleep.

She wakes up when he shifts and leaves the bed. He grabs his sweats and another t-shirt, she's wearing the one he had, and walks out the door. She knows where he is going, but doesn't understand why. But she wants to understand. He had said the roof was beautiful and maybe she would like it. She wants to like it.

Clove follows his path up through the stairs, moving silently. She slowly opens the door and the cold air hits her bare legs. She curses herself for not getting pants and pulls her shirt further down her thighs. She hides behind a wall of flowers and is temporarily distracted by their colors. Bright yellow like a dandelion and red like blood. Her heart beats faster as she touches the red ones. When she pulls her hands back she expects them to be stained. Turned a dark red like his dried blood but they remain clean and the memories stay back.

She spots him through a frame of yellow flowers and she rips them apart to see better. The petals fall around her as she watches him. He is alone and the sigh of relief that escapes her was the only thing that alerted her to the fact that she was worried he wouldn't be.

He stares off the horizon and she looks around at the view. It is pretty, but she finds it weaker than his words. He described sparking cityscapes and symphony of sound while she just saw buildings and heard the honk of car horns. She picks a flower and pulls off each petal. The pollen from the flowers had stained her hands yellow and she was disappointed to realize she liked the color of red better.

The door opens to the roof and the girl walks out. Clove practically snarls until she sees Peeta looks as surprised as her.

"Hello," Peeta faces Katniss and waves his hand lightly. She looks like he trapped her, and she must be deciding whether to run back down the stairs or stay on the roof with Peeta. She looks around, which causes Clove to duck down. Katniss takes a deep breath, and steps forward.

"Hello," she replies shortly. She strides as far away down the wall as she can from him. She ends up very close to Clove's hiding spot and Clove wills herself to breathe quieter. They all remain completely silent. He leans in her direction and begins to sketch on the paper that Clove hadn't noticed before. She watches him watching her and Katniss just stares off into the lights of the city. If she had turned she probably wouldn't understand what he was doing. But Clove knew and was curious enough to want to see.

He finishes the sketch and walks over to the Girl on Fire. He hands the paper to her and reaches out with his other hand for a handshake. She takes the picture slowly, but doesn't take his hand. He lets it drop back down to his side, "I'm Peeta." She stares at the drawing, which is most certainly of her, probably beautiful and covered in flames. He would sketch Clove sometimes and she was always shrouded in darkness with a spark of light near her heart. _Maybe I am on fire, too._

She takes a while to react to his words and it's with hostility, "I know," she snaps. Clove thinks of how she will be a tough kill in the arena and of little else. She is thicker than most tributes and no one gains that much arrogance without having some skill.

Peeta gives a small chuckle and lifts his hands up as if to block the hostility. "You're right. Stupid comment, I just felt like I should introduce myself," he smiles charmingly but she doesn't smile back.

"What is this? Why did you draw me?" she holds out the paper like evidence of an injustice. Her voice burns with distrust and intense dislike. Clove smiles.

"Well, I was drawing the skyline then you kind of walked into it. So I drew you, too." He points to the paper with mock serious, "See, skyline. Not everything is about you, Katniss Everdeen of District 12." He laughs to show his joke but she doesn't get it or isn't in the mood to laugh. _Stupid, probably doesn't get it. _

She tries to hand the paper back to him, "Well, here," her voice is still hard.

"No, no. It's yours, keep it," she starts to protest and he shakes his head. "Would you rather I kept the slightly creepy drawing of you?" Her angry face flashes to confusion and she pulls the drawing back.

She stands silent for a moment, staring at the paper and back towards Peeta. Both looks are questioning but she begins to crack a small smile, "So, you admit you are creepy."

"What? No, I didn't say that. I said the drawing of you was creepy," he points at the paper which Katniss quickly looks at again.

"I don't look creepy," she says defensively. Clove is sure his drawing is a perfect replication of her and no one wants to look creepy.

Peeta sighs, "I guess you're right. You look beautiful. You should wear flames all the time, they suit you." Clove rolls her eyes and sticks a finger in her throat to mime vomiting at his flirting. He can have his fun but she will be dead in a few days.

"Why are you talking to me?" she stares at him.

"I'm going to die soon. Why not talk to you?" he shrugs and kicks at the floor. He's nervous, Clove thinks and the thought makes her laugh. _She means nothing, Peeta_.

"You don't think you are going to win?" she says surprised and there is no reason for her not to be. Most Careers think they will win, especially District 2. They show nothing but confidence and violence and a lifetime of training.

"Why would I want to?" Clove barely hears his words they are so soft.

Katniss won't understand it like Clove does. She will think he is lying or not think about what it would mean for him to win. It would mean nothing for him to win except that twenty-three people had died. The girl doesn't answer; he had shocked her into silence. "It was nice meeting you, Katniss," he smiles shyly, backs up, and gives a small wave.

He leaves the roof and leaves Clove to worry about getting caught. She looks at her legs shyly for a moment before realizing that she doesn't care what an idiotic District 12 tribute thinks of her.

She gets up, resisting at pulling down the fabric of her shirt and saunters to where Katniss leans against the wall. The girl doesn't notice her at first, and Clove clears her throat while crossing her arms over her chest. Katniss looks shocked and backs a little further away into the wall. Funny, she didn't seem scared of Peeta. Clove smirks and steps closer.

"Hello," she makes sure all of her teeth show in her smile. She was trained by the likes of Enobaria and a smile can be used as a threat. Katniss swallows but then stands up straighter, she won't be threatened easily.

"Hello," her gaze drops to Clove's undressed state and she resists pulling down her shirt again. She hopes Katniss can figure out it's a man's shirt but she doesn't give her that much credit.

"It won't help, you know," Clove enters in the girl's personal space and even though she is several inches shorter she still has more weight on her and years of training. She doesn't fear the girl she has to look up at. Katniss doesn't show fear either and Clove respects her for it, but hates her a little, too.

"What won't help?" her voice is indifferent and it angers Clove even more. She snatches the drawing that Peeta made her and only glances at it for a moment to see that it is indeed beautiful, before putting it up to the force field where the current causes the paper to catch fire.

"Being the Girl on Fire," she drops the burning paper on the ground at Katniss's feet and walks toward the door that Peeta went through a minute before, proud of her moment. She runs downstairs in attempt to catch Peeta and hopefully think of a lie, or gain the ability to tell the truth. She opens her bedroom door is shocked to not find him. She checks the bathroom and then accepts that he didn't come back to her room at all. She feels relief at not getting caught but something she thinks is sadness at him leaving her for the whole night. He always stays the night. She curls into herself on the bed and pretends that she can sleep just fine.

The last day of training is uneventful. Peeta discovers the joy of painting himself to look like the environment but spends more time mixing colors to make more beautiful colors that Clove can't imagine in nature or being at all useful in the arena. Katniss Everdeen tries her hand at throwing knives and Clove grudgingly admits she isn't as bad as she thought she would be. Clove picks up a bow and snaps herself with the string. She is thankful no one was watching her, except the little District 12 boy who she frightens off with a growl.

He smiles at her from across the room but otherwise doesn't interact with her. He is friendlier to the alliance and chats easily with them. Clove watches them relax under his words and fall under the spell that is cast whenever he speaks. The only person immune to it seems to be Katniss, who avoids his gaze the entire day. It makes Clove smile.

Enobaria and Brutus talk strategy for the private session but Peeta and Clove don't really listen. They are guaranteed a good score because of their district and both are completely capable with weapons and strength. Neither really understands why the pair bothers talking, and instead they make a game of who can horrify their escort the worse. Clove drops a piece of food down her shirt and digs it out and eats it. Peeta lets out a loud burp and then spills his drink all over the table. He finally wins when he picks up his plate and licks it absolutely clean and their escort excuses himself from the table.

She goes to bed excited and almost happy. She falls asleep quickly with him beside her and being so tired from the night before. She's surprised when he wakes her up with his hands around her throat. She digs her nails into his hands and growls, "I didn't know you were into this kind of thing, Peeta," her voice is hoarse with the limited air supply and pressure around her larynx.

"Have you been following me, lover?" He asks, not responding to her quip. She rolls her eyes and takes in a bigger breath. It's like he's not even trying. She throws her knee into his crotch and flings his hands off of her. He doubles over a little at the hit but if he was really fighting her he could have held his position. They both know how empty his threats are. He owes her his life; he would never take hers.

If he was really angry, he would have avoided her. Just like she would avoid him if she were really angry. That's when her vision turns black and all she feels is rage and hatred and she would kill without thought. He settles down onto the edge of the bed, near her feet.

She is confused about his accusation though. She had followed him that night but he hadn't known then and he hadn't figured it out until now. He must have met her again on the roof. Her throat feels scratchy and it has nothing to do with his hands.

"Does it matter?" she spits out.

"No, I just never figured you for the jealous type," he smirks a little and pulls at her big toe until it cracks. She pulls it back, quickly. She hates that.

"I'm not. I was just curious. You talked about the roof a lot. I wanted to see it," it's mostly the truth and she knows he won't see the lie on her face. "Why do you talk to her?" the question slips before she can stop it and she curses herself for lack of self-control. That very rarely happens.

"I want to," his smile is sweet and she knows, full of lies that he is prepared to tell her. This was something he didn't want her touching. This is his life and he is trying to live it in the last couple of days he has. The promise is still there, though. He will make Clove a victor but she doesn't feel the usual thrill at the thought.

She shrugs nonchalantly, "Well, be careful, I wouldn't want you to catch something." He rolls his eyes and lies down next to her.

"She isn't dirty, Clove," he joins her staring at the ceiling. It's easier to pretend that everything isn't completely fucked when there isn't eye contact.

"How unfortunate for you," Clove's voice is biting and sarcastic but he hears the joke behind it. He punches her shoulder lightly and then drops his hand into hers and grips it. She finds it strange and unnerving and not something they do, and she pulls her hand out almost immediately. His sigh is almost inaudible, but she still catches it and feels like she failed some sort of test. Clove wishes she could grab his hand again, but a part of her fights it and clenches her hand into a fist instead.

**A/N Sorry updating this has been so slow. I have another story and that having a bigger fanbase it takes over my writing life. Anyways, thank you for all the reviews! This has already past my goal of what I hoped to get for a rare pairing fic but I hope you guys continue and maybe catch some newbies too! **

**Clove/Peeta/Katniss drama! I'm hoping to keep this very slight love triangle in character. Katniss is not the type to fall for a guy in a few days especially from a rival district so don't expect crazy declarations of love or anything…**

**Yes, I made a Game of Thrones reference….his name is Gendry Waters. It works for District 4 lol **


	4. Passion

**A/N Hey guys! Sorry again if you got an Author Alert and thought it was Fire (or Throne now, too) but I wanted to finish up this chapter since Wrath has been the longest neglected. I am going to try and update each one of my stories every few days. I just moved out of the country so obviously my life has just been overloaded but it's just busyness and not writing block that is stopping me now so I should be consistently updating! **

They wake up and dress together to head down to the private sessions. Clove smirks at the trembling weak tributes while Peeta smiles kindly at everyone who catches his eyes. Clove thinks that he makes them more nervous that way, even if he doesn't mean to. She remembers Finnick Odair and how he won with a kind smile while piercing a trident through their bodies. They remember, too and avoid his gaze.

He goes early, only the third person in line behind Glimmer and Marvel. Clove begins to fidget along with the other tributes when his session takes much longer than normal or what she perceived as normal. Glimmer and Marvel were both done in fifteen minutes and the Careers tend to go on the longer side of the tributes. No one else has anything to really show off.

Katniss Everdeen arches her eyebrow in an unspoken question at Clove and despite hating that the girl thinks she has a right to ask, she still shrugs and is glad someone is as confused as she is. They finally call her name, an hour after Peeta entered, and she walks into the room. The stench of all too familiar cleaning supplies fills her nose and she looks around for the stains of blood. The smell is common when a trainee from the Center back in Two dies or is injured and the evidence is hidden under gallons of bleach and hours of scrubbing. A rug has been pulled towards the middle of the floor and Clove resists looking underneath it. No one can die in private sessions. There is no blood.

She goes through her routine without letting herself think about it. The Gamemakers drink happily even if she notices them look at her nervously and one drops her cup at the sound of the Clove's knife hitting the target in the head. She fights with a trainer and throws knives into dummy's skulls and hearts. She will get a good score, even if she is a little distracted. Coming from District 2, she could have gotten a good score if she came in and took a nap.

Clove walks outs quickly when they dismiss her. Going up the two floors to their compartments feels long and she finds herself biting at her fingernails, tasting blood. The apartment is quiet but she hears the sound of running water from his bathroom. Peeta leans over the sink, his eyes cast down onto his hands as he scrubs the colors from them furiously. She watches the color flow off of his hands into the sink but it's not the familiar color of blood. It's a mixture of other colors that combine to make a dark muddy brown but have decorated themselves in a beautiful spectrum around the edges of the sink.

The sight causes her breathing to lose more control than it ever would have if it were blood.

"What did you do?" she asks.

"I painted something," she resists the urge to roll her eyes and he gives her a sad but proud smile from his reflection in the mirror. She knows him well enough to know that that flash of pride means he did something he should not have against these people.

"I figured as much, Peeta, but what did you paint?" She resists clenching her teeth, a headache is already forming behind her eyes and the pressure wouldn't help. He wipes his hands on a towel. They are still stained and the color rubs onto the fabric. Peeta doesn't seem to notice. He leans on the wall and looks at her. His jaw clenched and muscles taut. She feels another of his test for her, for her soul or whatever, and she already knows she will fail.

"Do you remember that little girl from last year?" It wasn't what she expected to hear, and she pauses in surprise for a moment.

"No, I don't," she says honestly. She remembers the victor. A guy from District 1, brutal with a spear, their usual weapon but she doesn't remember a specific little girl. She thinks about his kills and vaguely remembers him trapping some girl in a net.

"Her name was Rue, from District 11, she jumped through the trees and made it to the final eight. She was twelve and an eighteen year old boy caught her and speared her through the chest without a thought," he doesn't look in her eyes anymore. He never seems to like what he sees within them in these moments.

"What does she have to do with anything?" Clove doesn't understand why he would even remember a girl from another district that died. _People die in the Games every year. Nothing made this girl special_. Though she does find it impressive that a twelve year old got to the final eight.

"I wanted to hold them accountable, you know? Just for once. I wanted them to know that they are responsible for the death of that little girl and so many others," His voice sounds angry and determined but full of sadness at the same time. Clove's stomach drops. Whatever he did will not help him, or her, in the arena.

"What did you do?" She demands harshly.

"I painted her. I painted that little girl. I painted her mother putting flowers on her body," The sound of Clove's smack echoes through the bathroom. His face rapidly shows the red shape of her hand on his cheek. He lifts up his hand to gently touch it with barely a look of surprise.

"How will that help us? Pissing off the goddamn Gamemaker's isn't the way to win, Peeta!" She is so angry that it flows through her body in a white hot rage. Something Clove hasn't felt since she got here. She hopes he tries to fight her, argue with her, because she needs to burn this hate and rage but he makes no movement towards her and she is left boiling.

He rubs his face lightly, "You don't need help, Clove. I'm going to die anyways, I want to die being me," If she hadn't walked to the other side of the bathroom, she would have smacked him again. Instead she throws some sort of glass cup at his head and he ducks down, easily missing it.

"What does that even mean?" she yells.

His voice is still calm and that manages to piss her off even more, "I'm not just a piece in there Games, Clove. I'm a person and that little girl was a person," He doesn't mention Clove. She doesn't notice. He just signed his own death warrant and possibly brought the wrath of the Gamemakers down upon them for something she doesn't even understand. If she died, she wanted him to win but now he has no chance. No chance of survival even if she falls.

The thought that he will die strangles her voice and jumbles her thoughts until its all she can think about. She pushes it down though; she can't allow herself to care. His death is now pre-determined but hers isn't. She calms down enough to feel the usual quiet emptiness of nothing and it brings her back together. Her hands unclench and she stares down at the little half-moons carved into her palm from her fingernails. Clove scowls at him and heads towards the door, "You better not bring me down with you," she bites out.

He gets the last word before she can slam the door, "I wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart." She wishes she could re-slam the door in his face.

They stay apart for the rest of the night except when forced to come together for the announcement of the training scores. Clove sits as far away as possible from him on the couch and tries her best not to glance at him through the introductions. Once they begin giving out the scores, she doesn't need to try. Her training has taught her to pay attention to what's important.

The District 1 tributes both get a good score, nothing surprising. Marvel and Glimmer both score nines. A solid score but she hopes to bring double digits. The best Careers always do. She holds her breath while Peeta's name comes up and lets out a shocked gasp when he scores an eleven. Brutus and Enobaria call out happily and acknowledge him for the first time without disgust. He had lied about his private session to them and she didn't say anything. Now she bites her tongue to keep from crying out. He may not be permitted to win, but maybe they liked someone with a different attitude in the arena. All they want is a good show.

They are still complimenting him when her score pops up, a ten. She scoffs at the fact that he got a higher score than her. He drew a picture, the least they could do is give me a matching score. She scowls for the rest of the scores. Though no one beats her, until District 11, where the large boy ties her score. She angrily grips onto the leather of the couch and pretends that she doesn't feel suddenly colder.

She loses it at District 12's score. Katniss Everdeen manages to finally hit Clove's trigger and all she sees is red. The string of curses that comes out of her mouth as the girl gets an 11 shocks everyone in the room almost as much as the score itself. Their escort leaves the room appalled yelling about manners. Clove storms to her room and only manages to catch Peeta's eyes for a moment but she can't read his expression when all she feels is angry heat.

Clove breaks a vase in the hallway that crashes and causes the Avoxes to scatter. Her room is the next victim, trashing it as much as she can. Peeta doesn't come to calm her down like he normally does. Pinning her down while she screams and thrashes until her anger breaks. She accidently slices her own hand on broken glass when she smashes the mirror. Laughter bubbles in her throat and she smears her hand across the perfect white wall. She likes how much the red stands out and draws patterns until her laughter dies and her head gets light.

Sitting with her messy canvas behind her, she lets her head rest against the wall. She feels wet on her cheeks and wonders how blood got there before wiping away the tears. She grabs a piece of cloth that she thinks was initially part of a blanket and wraps it gently around her hand. Now that she's aware of herself and her surroundings the wound stings and she can see shards of glass still embedded in the cut.

Struggling to stand, her body light from blood loss, she heads out to find an Avox for help bandaging her cut. For some reason, she doesn't want Peeta to see what she had done. The Avox looks a little frightened as she takes Clove's hand, but calms when she sees her close her eyes tightly. The cream the Avox uses stings but Clove was always taught that meant it was healing. The Capital wouldn't want one of their top players out of the Game so she knows she will be taken care of.

Clove listens outside his door for a moment, hoping to hear the familiar sound of him pacing, to walk in and fall asleep with him by her side, but there is only silence and she doesn't let herself wonder where he is. Maybe he is in there, but he didn't come for her and she won't crawl back to him. She sleeps alone, holding the bandage in place on her hand

Prepping for the interviews seems stupid and useless to both of them. Training always included interview prep even if it was never a high priority. Brutus and Enobaria just repeat the lessons on interviewing she had learned for years and she yawns her way through it.

"What will you say if he asks you how Peeta got a higher training score than you?" Enobaria flashes her teeth and Clove wonders how sharp they really are. _Is it easier to eat that way?_

"Probably that he showed them his dick, and it's bigger than mine," she quips.

"Maybe you shouldn't talk about how you know the size of your district mate's dick in the interview," Enobaria snaps. I guess we haven't been very sneaky.

"All they want is a good show, Peeta and I could put on a _great_ one," a cough behind her stops her from beginning a descriptive tirade about what kind of show. Peeta stands behind her with his head titled in thought.

"Time to trade," he clarifies but his voice sounds far away. When he passes by Clove, he grabs her injured hand and looks at it. All that remains is a healing scab and he traces a finger around it gently before letting her hand go. It's a silent apology that she's not willing to accept yet. She walks away without responding.

The prissy male escort turns practically cruel when putting Clove in heels. They had practiced this before in her life, the Center had a pair of heels for most sizes. She walked in ones too big that caused her to stumble, but never rubbed at her heels or squished her toes. Clove wonders what kind of punishment they would inflict for killing an escort, but decides there are better people to take out her anger on.

Clove doesn't talk to anyone at dinner. Just shoves as much food as she can into her mouth and then pointed to her full mouth whenever Brutus or the escort tries to talk to her. She runs off to her room with the excuse of going to bathroom and locks her door. Peeta stops outside the door once, his loud footsteps clear. In her head she imagines him lifting up his hand to knock and the lowering it back to his side. She listens to his too loud footsteps walk away from her door and wonders if he went into his room or up the stairs.

She doesn't sleep again and plays scenarios over and over in her head. An early blood bath death for her and Peeta, or just Peeta, the arena having an environment or mutts that they can't handle; the shame of dying from exposure or an animal makes her cringe. She calls it strategizing, though most would recognize the signs of fear. When Enobaria comes in to wake her, she is already awake and dressed, stretching her muscles that she is suddenly very sure are inadequate against the larger male tributes like 11. She throws knives she stole from the dinner table into the completely repainted walls of her room until it's time to leave. She doesn't bother removing them from the wall, they will be gone by the time she gets back with the holes covered and repaired.

She tunes out for the torture from the prep team and only protests a little at the girlish dress that her stylist put her in. She will be threatening to kill people and it looks like she is going to one of the fancy events the richer families of the District have. Peeta looks nice, but unlike himself in a blue suit with his blonde hair slicked back. She is still too busy being mad at him to say anything or even acknowledge his presence, he seems a little nervous by her side.

Getting to the stage, she notices the girl on fire shimmering in the light. Appearing soft like the candlelight beside her bedside table in District 2. It's an amazing illusion and Clove hates that the girl will get even more attention for how she dresses. This isn't a fashion competition. Its kill or be killed and pretty little dresses don't help you survive.

Glimmer sits near her and her dress is completely sheer. Clove smirks at the girl, sex as a ploy means she can't be that great of a fighter. Glimmer looks self-conscious before pulling herself together and glaring at Clove then smiling at the crowd. Clove tunes out the District 1 interview, already knowing enough about them to know their strategies. Glimmer is flirty, and Marvel confidant. They play no other cards and Clove finds it dulling.

Clove is bloodthirsty. The crowd loves her and screams her name within a few simple responses that she thinks are obvious. Caesar smiles and laughs at, with, her ferocity,

"What is your strategy, Clove?"

"To kill everyone, Caesar. Shouldn't that be obvious?" Laughter from the audience and Clove's smile is even more intimidating than her scowl. They laugh at that, too. Clove wonders vaguely what Peeta thinks of all this, the laughter at death, and her causing it.

"And how will you do all that, Clove?"

"With violence, Caesar," The laughter echoes and she refuses to look behind her at his face.

She is a District 2 tribute, through and through. The only crack being him and she won't let that show. Her sponsors will never know. The questions continue this way, with her strengths (knives) and weaknesses (none) and the crowd roars when her time is up and she sits back down.

Peeta replaces her in the interview chair. They quiet down and Clove watches Peeta curiously. Finally allowing herself to look at him. His face seems passive, calm. Caesar starts with the same questions he gave to Clove, the same questions he gives to every Career tribute, but they fall flat. Peeta doesn't want to talk strategy, his score, violence, or even about the arena at all. He talks about the Capitol, making jokes that make the audience chuckle, slightly confused.

He mentions the showers and how he smells like roses. Clove wouldn't know, she had never smelled one before but maybe he does. Caesar seems to think so. They laugh and it's a wonderful charade. The audience likes him for a different reason then they expected but they still like him.

Caesar goes to his fall back questions for Peeta. The ones saved for the other tributes, the untrained and afraid. He takes each one in stride and comes back with a witty comment and the audience begins laughing without confusion and cheering him on. Almost all of his answers are lies, but even she can't tell with some of them. They had no chance of ever knowing.

"So, Peeta, a good looking guy like you, do you have a girl back home?" Clove rolls her eyes, wondering if Peeta will lie about some girl back home. _The audience loves that shit._

"Well, yes, I do Caesar; I'm not sure how well its going though, she's pretty mad at me for volunteering," he chuckles a little nervously. For being the one who isn't a psychopath, he can certainly lie like one.

"Well, Peeta! Here's what you do: you win and go home to her and she can't be mad at you anymore!" Caesar laughs and pats him on the back but Peeta looks suddenly morose and shakes his head.

"Winning, winning won't help my case with her," he sighs.

"Why not?" Caesar seems legitimately disappointed that his plan won't seem to work. Maybe he is a good liar, too.

"Because she came here with me." The sound of thousands of people's gasps fill the air and Clove wonders if they took all the oxygen from her lungs_. He told them. He told everyone_. Clove looks around to catch someone's eyes and finds his. He reaches out with his hand and she hears a cheer and knows that she has to reach back. His big hand envelops hers and he pulls her into a hug.

"Just play along, Clove. It's only a game," he whispers in her ear and she smiles at the audience and wonders how long this game will let him live. The crowd goes insane. Peeta's timer went off but no one could hear it. Caesar tries to gain control but they are too wild and rowdy, even after Clove and Peeta sit down. The next few districts are barely paid any attention.

When Peeta grabs and kisses her hand in the middle of the District 5 girl's interview the crowd goes crazy. The girl looks quickly back at us, faster than anyone else to figure out why the audience went mad at her simple words. She shows no reaction, only looks back out at the crowd without catching Clove's eyes. Maybe she is intelligent.

But Clove doesn't care. She is going to be a victor, a tragic one. Remembered for the rest of history. The lovers of District 2. He is still on her side, not trying to bring her down with his own death wish. She finally looks towards District 12 at the end of the row of seats. Katniss's face is completely stoic but her hands keep rubbing against the fabric of her dress, most likely unconsciously. She makes no other sign of nerves or any kind of reaction that the boy she had talked to was in love. Clove didn't know what she expected. _Tears? A hint of betrayal_? But the girl was too strong to let herself become attached to a tribute, someone sentenced to die if she was to live. Clove could sense that much about her.

When it's her turn, Clove finally pays attention. She notices the audience does as well. A score of eleven is rare in Career districts; it's unheard of in a shithole like 12. They didn't get an explanation for Peeta's, maybe they could get one from her. She smiles politely but seems taken aback by the audience, more fear of them then she ever showed of Clove. They laugh when she has to ask Caesar to repeat his question. He goes through his inane questions and she answers them without incident. She gets a little more attention when she spins in her dress and the candlelight burns brighter.

She doesn't talk about her score either, claiming it's against the rules and letting the topic die off. Her frivolousness might make people forget about it. Peeta scowls at her. Clove guesses he expected better from his little crush. Her interview was solid at best but not outstanding by any means. She will still get sponsors with her score though and she had to get that score somehow, so Clove still pays attention.

Her young district partner comes up, a boy named Asher, with the same look as the girl. He is only twelve and even Clove believes this age to be too young for the Games. They never offer any competition. His suit looks too big on him and Clove thinks it could have been on purpose. There are plenty of sympathy sponsors especially for the younger tributes. The people who don't like seeing children die of exposure or hunger, but never really mind if it's at the end of a sword or an axe to the skull.

"I know it's been done before but I just wanted to say, I think I'm love with my District mate, too. I mean, did you see her in that dress? Damn," he whistles and then laughs and even if it's just for play Katniss blushes at the attention, but manages a small smile. Clove finds it less amusing that the boy is playing off Peeta's idea. Her fake smile folds into a harsh scowl.

She marks the boy before looking up and seeing the Girl on Fire staring back at her with determination. She saw murder in Clove's eyes and now has it in her own. Clove was wrong. The girl is dumb enough to get attached to someone entering the arena.

Clove might not understand why Katniss would risk her life for this boy but she understands strategy. She doesn't want to piss off someone who got a mysterious eleven in training, even if she knows they are giving it out to people who paint pictures now. Clove lets her gaze drift off and avoids listening to the rest of the interview. She can't kill either of them now, and her nails are starting to cause her half healed wound to open up on her hand.

He answers a few more questions and leaves to more applause than was probably to be expected of a twelve year old. She notices that much. Clove lets go of Peeta's hand as she stands and listens to the anthem. His hand felt hot being held for so long.

They walk out of the line and get their fair share of glares from the other tributes. No one else will be as remembered as they were. They manage to get on the elevator by themselves, fairly easily with Clove's threatening glare.

Clove smiles at him, "So, you are in love with me?" The question is in jest, she understands the strategy. Part of her still thrills with excitement and she blames it on the excitement of sponsors.

"If that doesn't get you sponsors, then nothing will," he smiles and flicks at her nose in a way that always annoyed her. She bats his hand away lightly.

"Are you still angry at me?" He smiles but it looks almost sad. She doesn't notice.

"I guess not, but I will be super pissed at you if I lose," she replies, "possibly haunting you from beyond the grave."

"You won't lose. I promised you would win, didn't I?" His smile is a lie she finally realizes but doesn't ask him about it. He is a liar and she is a killer and she doesn't want to know the truth just as he doesn't. They are the star-crossed lovers of District 2; their relationship was born in blood and, they always really knew, must end in it.

**A/N I don't know if anyone is transferring stories here but I just wanted to say that I have decided to continue Throne of Panem. So if you are reading that too…there will be more! **

**Sorry this got so neglected, I will try and keep it up from now on! **

**Follow my tumblr at mellarks-hotbuns for pretty fanart, writing updates, and general silliness. **


	5. Rage

The Arena

The side of bed where he was feels cold. Clove's fingers dance across the soft fabric of the Capitol sheets, her arm splayed across the bed to caress where he was. She can still feel the slight change in temperature from where his warm body slept last night. He must have run to breakfast, or the roof, or somewhere else. _Anywhere but here._

She doesn't jump out of bed like she thought she would. No rush of adrenaline like the morning of the Reaping, her body stays stiff and still. She expected blood rushing and heart pounding and instead her heart feels tight and like it's slowly inching up into her throat, choking her from the inside. Her fingers reach to touch the smooth skin of her neck, rubbing a scar that she can't remember how she got, until a small choke breaks through her lips and breaks the stillness.

It breaks the spell and her heart unclenches and begins to pound again, steady and then increasing in tempo until she can feel the rush and she smiles. Her limbs gain the energy she anticipated and she runs out to the breakfast table without bothering to change. It doesn't matter what she wears or how she looks. Nothing matters but her heart beating blood through her chest and that it will continue to do so at the end of the day. Others will fall, but not them.

Walking out for breakfast, she finds him already dressed and at the table. He looks completely put together, in a nice blue button down and a simple pair of khakis and a brown belt. The only thing telling of anything more under the surface of a nice normal day are the heavy dark circles under his eyes that reveals nerves or nightmares. Maybe he went to the roof again while she dreamed deeply of dandelions and bloodshed.

He would have been alone. Katniss Everdeen wouldn't have joined him on the roof this time. Disgust or even betrayal would keep her away from Peeta now. Clove doubts he gained enough trust for betrayal, but he probably gained back the disgust he had worked hard to dissuade. It made her feel better to know she already caused the Girl on Fire discomfort.

Leaning in, she gives him a big kiss in front of their mentors and escort, letting her tongue slip into his surprised mouth. She pretends not to notice him wipe her taste away as soon as she pulls away. Their escort is tittering about how "adorable" they are, how tragic. Clove holds up a knife with a wicked smile, and he shuts up. Clove stabs the knife into an apple, brings it to her mouth, taking a huge bite. Smiling as juices drip down her chin and the escort excuses himself from the table. Peeta doesn't look up from his piece of toast.

After a short time, her stylist motions to her. There isn't much time to do anything but, eat, prepare, say goodbye. Clove wonders if she should say something to Peeta, he looks up as she hesitates in the doorway. He gives a small smile, but it's false and broken and scares her into saying nothing.

At the sight of the hovercraft she begins to fidget with excitement again. She takes guesses at the arena, what mutts they will throw at them, what environment it will be, and only hopes it isn't cold. She always hated the cold. She wonders if there will be water. Not the stillness of a lake or the rush of a river but the waves of an ocean. She would like that; to sleep in the sand, and taste salt on his skin.

She doesn't flinch as they put her tracker in. It makes a small bump in her skin and she imagines ripping it out. Enobaria did it with her teeth, her mouth already filled with blood from the boy she killed, and the hovercraft on its way declaring her the Victor. They cut that part out and healed the scars on her arm, but District Two remembers when even the fiercest mentors turned their eyes away and whispered of punishments. Her older brother was killed in a quarry accident, her young sister shot during a supposed crime. Clove makes plans to tear hers out.

Staring out the window she watches the Capitol disappear and mountains and forest pass underneath. Until they blockade it off, leaving her with only artificial light to see her stylist fidget across the craft. He always shifts under her stare, and his bird has been missing since the Reaping. The cage of hair empty but still appalling. He offers her his hand when they depart the hovercraft and she takes it with a harsh grip that makes him squirm.

He walks behind her and chats with a Peacekeeper before leading her into the space that will be her last sight before the arena. She watches as her stylist slips the Peacekeeper money and makes a few quick hand motions. Betting is illegal but his money is on her. _Why bother to hide it? _She already breaks the law just by training.

The outfit she is given is simple. Clove rolls her eyes without surprise when her stylist is absolutely no help with it. For all knew, it could be cold, hot, wet, dry, or anything really. The jacket is light, but retains heat and comes with just a plain blouse and pants and boots. He blathers on with useless commentary at each piece of clothing she puts on. He helps her put her hair up in a confusing tie but that is necessary to keep her hair out of her face. She tugs lightly at it, satisfied as the alert goes on, and then suddenly punches him in the face. The tube slides down around her silencing his cries of pain and her laughter.

The smile stays on her face, but her laughter dies as the tube rises up. The sun blinds her for a moment and she blinks, immediately adjusting her other senses. It smells like the woods of home but different too. There is no dull smell of deep earth or the cool wind bringing the smells of the upper atmosphere from the top of mountains. Aside from the countdown there is no sound. No clamor of equipment or screams of children. _At least, not yet_.

When her eyes adjust she can see a field beyond the line of children facing her. There is a lake off to her right, the only water source in site, and she glances behind her to see a forest. It's different but not too different from home. The trees are bigger but not foreign looking. She focuses towards the center. That's all that really matters, even if it's good to know the surroundings. The Cornucopia shines golden in the center of the circle of children, spilling out its weapons and supplies like a Christmas tree that Clove never had.

The gong sounds and twenty-four children run for their lives. Clove has already seen what she wanted, the case of knives was meant for her. She slams into a tribute on her way there but neither has a weapon yet and both continue to run in opposite directions. She didn't even pause to see who it was. Just as shapeless mass that didn't even slow her down.

Reaching the knives she bends down and pulls several out gripping them tightly in her hand and finally opens up to the world around her. Children are screaming now. Marvel brings down a machete on a cowering girl, Peeta grapples with a boy while he has no weapon. The rest is a scramble of faces she doesn't know.

A youngish boy reaches to grab a bag not very far from her. The knife enters him like butter and thuds as the hilt buries into him. He spits up blood as he collapses. She wishes she could hear his cannon but knows it won't happen. Not until later can she claim the sound as one of her own creation. She runs towards the next closest person readying her knives in her hands.

The bloodbath all happens so quickly and yet, in slow motion. She feels every heartbeat and sees every blood stain that blooms from her hands but she misses Peeta choking a boy to death that tried to attack her from behind and where many ran after they were out of her line of sight. She didn't notice when a boy with a spear cuts her arm or how at one point she slipped in a puddle of blood from a fifteen year old girl. Thirteen cannons boom out when it's all over. Clove kills three.

The first, the boy, was apparently from District 5, his heart stopped almost immediately since the knife went right into it. Second, a girl from District 9, tried to play with swords. Clove always found them to be silly weapons with no range. The girl only got one swing in before she had two knives in her chest. The last boy was running away but still in range. She collected her knife and looked at his face; she wanted to be able to identify him in the sky. It told her he was District 6, just like it told her the others.

Marvel claimed three with a smile that Clove recognized mirrored her own. She prickles at the insult of a tie though and so does he when she speaks her number. Glimmer and Jenniver both managed one, apparently fighters. Wayde didn't get any. Clove has a sneaking suspicion that he hid in the Cornucopia. Peeta is silent while they brag and laugh but they know that the numbers don't add up. There are five left and Peeta hasn't claimed a number.

"Nine for District 2?" Clove giggles and grabs at Peeta's hand. He pulls it away. She tries to ignore it.

"Eight," chimes Wayde.

"Oh?" Marvel seems interested, probably to prove us to be weaker or liars, "did someone else participate?"

"The Girl on Fire. You saw her," he gestures towards Peeta, "She got to the bow, hit a guy right in the neck, real quick like, then took out another girl in the way. It was kind of crazy actually." Clove resists stabbing him. She remembers the bodies, two with arrows sticking out of them. She had assumed it was Peeta's doing but now she notices it's a spear by his side and no bow in sight.

She was glad at first that Katniss Everdeen's body hadn't been there. That meant she could still kill her herself or watch as Peeta does it. Now, she is just angry. That should have been his bow and the girl took it, the Gamemakers left that for him. Though if she thought about it, they might have left it for her too, if that's what she showed in the private session. She stabs a knife into the ground barely missing Glimmer's hand.

"Well, I guess we know how she got an eleven," Glimmer pouts, sticking out her bottom lip in what she must think is a sexy way to show them off, Clove imagines slicing it off. She dramatically rubs her hand as if actually injured by Clove and scoots closer to Marvel.

"They are obviously just giving those away!" Clove snaps, remembering that Peeta painted a picture and got the same score. Peeta glances at her and shakes his head a little.

Marvel smirks and Clove realizes she hates him as much as Glimmer, as much as Katniss, as much as everyone, "Lover's quarrel?" She doesn't answer but gets up and storms off towards the lake. Otherwise it will slip out. How he didn't deserve his 11, how he got it. Then he will be dead and she will probably follow.

Peeta grabs her from behind when she is almost at the water. He wraps his arms entirely around her, placing kisses on her bare shoulder. It calms her down from the surprise and anger far quicker than she thinks it should, the way his arms and kisses always seem to. She must have been lost in the anger, to not have heard him approaching.

He leans in and whispers into her ear, the breath ghosting across her skin, "We are supposed to be in love, you know. Maybe you should stop acting like such a huge bitch." She turns around when he loosens his grip and punches him in a way that looks playful but she knows hurts. Then leans up and gives him a kiss on his lips with a laugh. He could have said worse, he could keep ignoring her. The parachute falls right next to them while his arms are still wrapped around her and she laughs and kisses at his jaw. It's a small bottle of water.

District 2 has used this form of communication for years. Most of the districts try, though many can't be trained in it. By the time they are reaped, it's too risky to talk about it so only the Careers openly know the system. Some of the other tributes can manage to pick it up but it's rare. A parachute with a useless object means they did something well. They have plenty of water at the camp.

She expected it after the kills, a present and award for doing something good, impressing the crowd, and instead she gets it after a kiss. She grabs the bottle and stares at in confusion for a moment. Peeta just smiles slightly and grabs her hand, leading her back to group and sliding his hand around her waist as they sit. _Maybe the show they want isn't just bloodshed this year_. She snuggles closer into his arms.

The other Careers had been watching. They saw the kiss and the parachute fall and most of them can easily put it together. They were trained to put it together even if it wasn't the usual situation. The Capitol loves a show and theirs is beautiful and bloody and tragic. Peeta grabs a sleeping bag for the both of them and they crawl in together. His heat makes her too warm but she doesn't want to move. When she inches her hands down into his pants, he pulls them up and grips them in his own outside the blanket.

"Camera shy?" she whispers and tries to reach back down.

"The build-up makes it better, Clove," he winks and then pulls her in for a kiss. Its soft, his lips gentle and exploring. She closes her eyes and tries to get lost in it, but instead is trapped in confusion. If the Capitol wants a show than shouldn't we be giving them one? Peeta pulls away and then kisses her on the nose before closing his eyes to sleep.

She kicks him lightly in the shin, "What the hell, Peeta?" Leaning back up for another kiss.

He doesn't open his eyes, "Just trust me and snuggle up, buttercup." She buries her face in his bare chest to hide her eye roll. His chest hair tickles at her nose, while the kiss still lingers on her lips and the fire in her belly that she isn't used to keeping unsatisfied growling; she wants him and wants Panem to know. This new Game confuses her but she trusts his decisions within it. _The Capitol loved him, us_. _Strategy is strategy no matter how different_.

Clove wonders about his kills instead of falling asleep. His eyes twitch. _Is he thinking about them too. Would he be feeling guilt? Remorse?_ He wouldn't feel pride like her. So why didn't he say his number was three to begin with?

They all believed it was five until Wayde corrected him. He wouldn't brag about killing, wouldn't up his numbers for pleasure or pride. _But maybe he would to protect her_. Katniss Everdeen revealed her skill sets and has a deadly weapon and no one would know if Wayde didn't say anything. Clove's eyes shut in frustration at the thought. She can deal with his attraction to her, but she won't deal with it putting them in danger. The Girl on Fire won't hesitate to shoot them both in the heart. She bites her tongue; the audience will see the concern as a weakness, for Careers and for their relationship.

They wake up when Glimmer alerts them to the fire. Clove wipes the drool from Peeta's chest and he grabs a shirt from nearby. He seems as surprised as she is that they were able to sleep but her body still feels sluggish and even a little sore. The blood bath was more exhausting than she had thought.

The fire is far into the forest, but they can clearly see the gray smoke rising up into the dark sky. Clove estimates two miles, if the person stays put they can get them within a half hour and anyone dumb enough to light a fire, they can probably track pretty easily. They run into the woods, leaving Glimmer and Wayde to watch the supplies. Wayde pretends to be disappointed and Glimmer pouts. She takes off another layer of clothing, pretending to rest in her underwear not under a blanket despite the cold temperature.

They rush past the trees and through the underbrush and Marvel makes a joke and Clove and Jenniver's laughter echoes through the silent forest. When they get closer and can smell the burnt wood, they slow down and quiet their steps. Peeta is still loud as ever, but Marvel and Jenniver disappear into the woods. Their excited quiet breaths turn into mist in the cold air.

They see her shape outlined by the fire. A young girl is huddled close to the dying flame curling her body into herself to try and stay warm. She doesn't make a sound or move until they are within steps of her, naturally aligning themselves into a predatory half circle around her.

She screams when she finally hears them, and attempts to run. But Marvel is already there, his trained arms grabbing her around her body while Jenniver punches her hard in the face to silence her. Her nose cracks and her screams turn to tears and crying. Their jeers echo through the forest along with her pleas for help and mercy. She finds neither. Marvel spears her through the shoulder, not a kill wound, not even close. The girl's shirt stains red with blood, she cries out and then screams as he rips it back out. She is bent over, weeping, still begging.

Clove twirls the knife in her hand, thinking of which leg to hit. Marvel laughs and turns the spear around, ready to beat the girl with the shaft. Peeta tackles Marvel to the ground as he raises the spear to hit her. Marvel lets out an 'umph' as Peeta knocks the breath out of his lungs, and is pinned underneath the thicker boy easily.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Marvel yells shaking his hands that are pinned to the ground. He tries to kick up his legs but Peeta is larger and just as trained. Jenniver makes a move towards them and Clove throws a knife in front of her face, barely missing, pining itself into the tree just past her. Clove doesn't know what Peeta is doing but she won't let someone take him from behind.

"My problem? You are trying to torture an innocent girl and I have the problem?" Peeta lets go long enough to punch him in the face. Marvel's hands get free and he tries to wrap them around Peeta's neck. Peeta shoves them away.

"Let me go you, asshole," Marvel fights.

"Clove, just kill her and get it over with," he nods his head towards the girl crawling on the ground, crying and holding onto her wound, trying to keep herself from bleeding out. She managed to crawl a few feet away from them towards a large tree.

Clove hesitates. This is what they are supposed to do. The Capitol loves a show and it could help them win. Help them get support that they might need later. He asked her to stop it though. To stop every instinct and every bit of training from years taught with abuse, violence, and hate. She grips the knife harder in her hand and looked at him. Something in his eyes flashed, like pleading and hope and fear.

She turned and slits the girl's throat. Her blood spills quickly and only a few struggling breaths escape before she collapses to the ground and the cannon sounds. Clove looks back up at Peeta with the bloody knife in her hand. He nods at her and jumps back away from Marvel. Clove knows he was testing her, trying to see what her morality would say about torturing the girl, but he didn't want to hear the real answer and she didn't want to see his disappointment so she cut the girl's throat instead and avoids the false hope in his eyes.

Marvel gets up and brushes off his back before reaching down to grab his spear. Clove's knife scrapes across his hand, and causes him to cry out. "It's time to play nice now, Marvel," she smirks. Peeta has picked up a sword while Clove readied another knife, and Jenniver has apparently decided to be neutral and leans on a tree, looking at her nails.

He probably plays the odds out in his head and finds himself losing, "Fine" he grits through his teeth. Clove smiles and motions that he can pick up his spear. He does with a huff and then turns around stomping back towards camp. Peeta hangs back and when Clove walks past him he reaches out and puts a hand around her waist. They walk back to camp together in silence.

Glimmer jumps into Marvel's arms when he gets back to the camp and coos over his cut hand, wrapping it up and even kissing the bandage. The emotional display is strange for in the arena. Caring for someone you have to kill could be considered weak but District 1 isn't stupid and they recognized the pattern. _We aren't the only people playing at love in the arena anymore_. They could have thought of their own damn plan to get attention.

The next few days are less complicated. Fourteen tributes are dead and ten are left within a day. The Gamemakers will leave them alone for a little bit, letting their own drama play out and their own hunting techniques fail. Peeta and Clove mock at the games that Marvel and Glimmer play. They fuck under the stars and seem like amateurs who play at being tough and dirty when Peeta realizes the Capitol wants soft and honest and love. Tributes fuck all the time, but rarely fall in love.

Clove knows the rules but doesn't understand them. He makes up stories of how they met and their first date and she just nods along and lets out girlish giggles that she fakes so well even Peeta seems confused sometimes. He describes dates that they never went on and things they never did. All of them are wonderful stories with sweet beginnings and happy endings, until they came here. The only dark spot on a perfectly painted relationship was that they could never be. One of them is doomed to die and the Capitol goes crazy for it.

"Do you remember when we met?" Peeta asks. Clove leans back into his chest and smirks.

"Yes, you gave me flowers. Dandelions. I was outside of the Center," she refuses to say out loud that she was crying, but she remembers that too and how an older girl had snapped her arm in training and told her she would never make it to the arena. That she would die in training. "I was eight." She finishes.

Peeta pauses, surprised for a moment that she did actually remember, lies were already dancing on his lips and now he bites them back. "Yes, I did," he drifts off and stares away and she thinks he must be remembering the next time they met. He closes his eyes and breathes into her skin and she thinks of old dying men and how their blood looks when it soaks into the carpet. She remembers how hard Peeta cried with blood soaked into his blonde hair and fear in his blue eyes.

He spoke a few hours later when they washed the blood off of each other's hair and off their skin in the community shower. There had been so much and the body so heavy especially for two small children. "Thank you," he whispered, his eight year old eyes filled with tears.

Little Clove hid her shaking hands and smiled but it felt like broken glass grating on her soul, "It was nothing." She believed it a little at the time. She doesn't anymore.

Now, Peeta grips her waist harder and bites at her skin. "Thank you," he whispers, thinking of the same thing.

Her voice cracks, "You're welcome."

**A/N Hello! Just wanted to say I am not dead : ) I will be working on my other stories soon! Sorry I have been travelling a lot and just haven't had that much time. I hope you enjoy this update and any other stories that I write soon! **


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